


Hell

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot, crossovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 07:06:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/795245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>ViceJim and PreOzKeller meet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hell

## Hell

by Linda

Jim Ellison and Chris Keller are the real and intellectual property of someone far sicker than I. If there is a way to make money off this, I haven't found it.

The first time I saw the "Deep Water" episode of "The Sentinel" I knew in my heart that Jim Ellison and Chris Keller were destined to meet. Please! Don't tell Blair!

* * *

Down by the old waterfront, at the far end of downtown Cascade in the heart of the meatpacking district, is an anonymous, unmarked door. The streets here are deserted at this time of night. The few working street lamps pool gray light in the littered gutters. No one comes here at night unless they know what they're looking for. If you didn't know it was here, you would scurry quickly past. After a few years working Vice you learn the location of the doors like this one, scattered throughout the city. These are the doors that lead to dark stairwells descending into smoky basements. This is the door that leads to Hell. 

The tall man stood alone breathing the humid night air and steeling himself before opening the door and slipping past the threshold. The heavy metal portal clanked shut behind him and the driving beat grew more urgent as he stalked down the stairs. He gave the menacing bear at the entrance a five and a wink and strode confidently into the club. 

Hell was busy for a weeknight. He made his way through the crowd towards the bar, brushing up against the tanned and toned young men who looked him over with appreciation. He made eye contact but didn't smile. More than one set of hands skimmed across his ass before he reached his destination. He easily caught the attention of the dark eyed Latino who took his money and handed him a cold beer while skating warm fingers over his palm. He turned and leaned back against the bar, arms folded across his broad chest, as he surveyed the room. 

Colored lights strobed and pulsed in time with the music that beat like a human heart. The air was heavy with the scent of smoke and sweat. The dance floor undulated with men who moved together like a single organism, hips grinding, thighs flexing. Hard, tight asses swayed beneath snug jeans that ranged across the spectrum from dark, denim blue to acid washed white. 

His sky-blue eyes scanned the crowd. All around him were the faces of men, serious faces, faces that smiled, faces of blue eyed, fair skinned boys and those of dark, brooding men. Some of the faces were fine featured, delicate and beautiful, some were ruggedly handsome. He kept his expression impassive even when met by the hungry stares and feral grins of eager potential amusements. 

As he was studying the crowd, the crowd had a unique opportunity to study him. Bold gazes dragged down his body like greedy hands, resting on the hard pecs and washboard abs, visible through his tight, black tee shirt. Insistent looks roamed his thighs and crotch. His hips shifted and he raised the beer bottle, letting his head fall back and taking a long, slow draught, unselfconsciously displaying what he had to offer in the bob of his Adam's apple and throb of his throat. 

At the back of Hell, another predator leaned against the wall, waiting. Cold, steel-blue eyes were sharp beneath heavy brows. His aquiline nose flared. A bottle hung causally from the long fingers of one hand, as the fingers of the other drummed the dance beat on his leanly muscled thigh. The sweltering heat of summer sun and unwelcome police attention had made L.A. too hot for his taste and sent the dark man and his bike north to cool down, trapping him in this half-assed city until fall. Here, he was only making the best of it. 

His intense glare raked across the crowd. The usual array of handsome men and pretty boys danced past his field of vision. Muscles honed in air conditioned health clubs flexed beneath the standard uniform of tee shirts and faded jeans, clothes pulled from dresser drawers when the suits and ties of daily living were bundled off to dry cleaners and laundries. These were the men who rode motorcycles on weekends and desks by day. 

He raised the bottle to his lips, licking the cool, bitter taste from the rim and pulling deeply at the cheap brew. Over by the bar a cluster of young men milled restlessly, college kids drinking beer bought with the money Daddy had sent them for books. They moved as a unit towards the wall to cruise from the relative safety of a dark corner. Then he saw the stern faced man leaning against the bar, drinking down his beer and drinking in his surroundings. 

The man had an edge to him. He wore the callused look of experience as comfortably as he wore denim and black cotton. His handsome face was creased from laughter and concern. As he watched, the dark man shifted away from the wall, folding his arms and cocking a hip in interest. He fixed his gaze on the man at the bar, his eyes boring through him with laser sharp intensity. Patiently, the dark man waited. 

It didn't take long for the man at the bar to become aware of being watched, a skill that served him well in the jungle, on the street and in the bars. Back by the far wall stood an intense and angry man. His lean, muscled body stood still and relaxed. His shoulders hung back, his long neck arched slightly, proudly. His hip was cocked, his pelvis trust forward in open invitation. He held all his tension in his eyes, in the furrow of his forehead, the crease of his heavy brow. His thin, white, sleeveless tee shirt advertised broad, round shoulders and long arms sculpted from heavy work, not heavy weights. His left arm bore a tattoo of a slender and anguished crucifixion. 

For the first time that evening the man at the bar smiled. His pale, blue eyes locked on the dark, blue glare with their own brilliant intensity. The dark man's mouth curved in a wicked grin, somewhere between a smile and the baring of teeth. He lowered his empty bottle to the table beside him, and swaggered purposefully towards the dance floor. 

The man at the bar reached back and dropped his own bottle on the bar, then strode gracefully forward. They made their way through the crowd, their eyes never breaking contact. They met in the middle of a sea of thrusting, pumping flesh. Standing close, deep in each other's personal space but not quite touching, each man considered the choice he'd made. 

Their hard eyes laughed, their smiles curled seriously. Their bodies loosened and swayed with the rhythmic beat of primal drums and techno pop. They advanced on each other, hips first, meeting in a grinding thrust. Their legs spread and slid together bent slightly at the knees. Strong hands gripped slim hips. Backs arched and chests rose to press and rub. Heads dropped forward, foreheads touching. 

Like this, they danced together for long, tense minutes. Their hips ground, rubbing hardening cocks together through thick, unforgiving denim. Their bodies hummed with the vibrations of the music and their own building arousal. Each breathed deeply the scent of the other man's sweat. Splayed finger grips slid back and down, abandoning hips and clutching hard asses. They pulled forward, crushing their pelvises together into a nearly painful grind. 

The man in the black tee shirt bent his head to brush his lips across the skin of the other man's neck, making them both shiver. Drawing his lips up until they hovered close to the dark man's ear, he breathed his introduction, "Jim." 

The dark man's eyes closed, his neck arched and his head fell back. He whispered, "Chris." 

Their bodies rocked together, dipping down and arching up, crashing against each other in waves and breaking in rippling pulses. Their hands roamed each other, tracing firm flesh through and around cotton. Their fingers caressed and kneaded hard shoulders and broad backs, thick biceps and lightly furred forearms, flat stomachs and rangy thighs. 

Chris was the first to break away, fixing Jim with a hard, steel stare before turning to move towards the back corner of the club. Jim paused for several beats, watching the steady retreat of a well muscled back and firm round ass. Then he took a deep breath and followed. 

Past the black curtained entrance Chris paused, allowing his eyes to adjust to the dim red light. Moans and grunts of male pleasure rose over the now distance club noise. The curtain parted and Jim was behind him. Chris moved forward, leading the way. The two men walked silently through the labyrinthine cluster of dark alcoves and low platforms. 

Sex surrounded them. Alone, men leaned against walls, pants unzipped, cocks hard and on display, working themselves with measured strokes and watching. In pairs and groups, they stood or knelt or crouched on all fours, sucking and slurping at raging cocks or pounding hard into tight, smooth asses. The air was rank with old semen and stale beer, sweat and piss and desire. 

Strong hands grabbed Chris's arms from behind, spinning him around and throwing him back, hard against a carpeted wall. Before he had a chance to react, Jim's body came crashing down, pinning his conquest with arms and legs. His mouth attacked Chris's neck, latching on with teeth and lips, biting and sucking at the stubbled skin. Chris's hands gripped Jim's short hair tightly, pulling him down harder against his throat, wanting the ride to be quick and dirty. 

Jim's ravening mouth worked at the rough flesh, dragging up to the ear to bite at a lobe and down the throat to suck greedily along Chris's Adam's apple. He planted his hands on the wall, one on either side of Chris's head, his arms bent, long muscles flexing. 

Chris moved his hands down from the short-cropped hair, gripping and kneading shoulders, then further down to dig into Jim's pecs. His nipples were already hard and peaked. Chris could feel them through the black tee. He pinched and twisted the tight points brutally between his fingers, drawing a rough grunt from the mouth ravaging his neck and a sharp thrust from the cock grinding into his pelvis. His own cock jerked in response. He dropped his hands to grab Jim firmly by the belt and hold him still. 

With practiced ease he opened the buckle and popped the button at Jim's waist, then he slowly lowered Jim's fly. Jim's hard cock, still trapped in white, cotton briefs, lurched forward. Chris clutched it through the underwear and squeezed. Jim's mouth released Chris's neck, gasping, his back arched and his head fell back. Chris slipped down between the arms Jim still used to steady himself against the wall and dropped to his knees. 

Steering the man by his hips, Chris turned them around until Jim now leaned back on the wall. His fingers looped through the waist of Jim's pants and briefs and yanked them down over his thighs as far as they would go. His cock leaped forward waving heavily in Chris's face. Chris listened to Jim's ragged breaths as his considered the swollen cock in front of him. Jim smelled of clean, fresh sweat, only lightly musky. His cock was thick and the pale skin flushed red. His balls swayed in a thicket of light, brown hair. 

Impatiently Chris adjusted himself in his own tightening jeans and set to work on Jim's erection. He'd done this before, many times and for many reasons. He'd learned young the power of a good blowjob, the power to control, the power to command. He'd used his skill to win favors, seal deals, buy time and switch the balance of that all-important power. Now he was using it for his favorite reason, for pure sport 

Grabbing Jim firmly by the hips, he pinned Jim's bare ass to the wall. His cock jutted forward, pointing directly at Chris's mouth. Pre-cum already pooled at the tip. Chris gave the head of Jim's cock one firm, broad lick, wiping up the salty liquid. Jim shuddered hard and his hands grasped at the wall by his sides. 

Like a cat with his prey, Chris was ready to play with this, make it fun, before getting serious. He started at the base, the damp spot where cock met balls. With lips and tongue and nibbling teeth he worked his way up the soft skin, stretched taut over the pulsing shaft. He dragged his tongue and scraped his teeth over the distended veins, tracing them up and then back down, making wickedly slow progress towards the head. 

Jim's strong body strained. His back arched, drawing his ass up and pressing his head back hard against the wall. The muscles in his well-defined shoulders stood out like steel cables. His fair skin glowed in the red light with the sheen of sweat. His breaths came in harsh pants and guttural grunts. 

Chris used his tongue to trace the ridge around the head of Jim's cock, carefully drawing precise circles. With just the tip, he directed sharp, quick, little flicks at the slit that wept with salty, bitter need. Then he parted his lips slightly to suck at the cleft underneath Jim's cockhead. Jim hissed loudly through gritted teeth and his hips fought Chris's hands to thrust against the teasing mouth. 

Chris released Jim's hips and backed away, taking his groan of disappointment the way an actor takes applause. Chris's hands moved to Jim's hard thighs, his fingers dug deeply into the unyielding muscle. He bent his head, opened his mouth and with one rough motion sucked Jim's balls into his mouth. 

"Oh fuuuck!" Jim growled at the sudden pressure on sensitive flesh. The fierce pull at his groin bordered on pleasure, bordered on pain, distracted him from the ache in his cock, focused him on his mounting need. His hands clamped down on the back of Chris's head, grasping and clawing at short, dark hair. 

Chris sucked hard, feeling the skin tighten. He increased and released his hold in a steady rhythm, expertly knowing how far he could push the pleasure/pain envelope. Finally, when he felt Jim's thrusts become frantic and his moans grow desperate, he pulled back and let Jim's balls slip from his mouth. 

Chris returned his attention to Jim's hard shaft; bathing it with his tongue in long, slow licks and fiendish flicks. As the tortured man moaned with shameless arousal, he slipped one hand between Jim's legs and rubbed roughly at the skin just beneath his balls. Jim's legs spread as far as the confinement of his jeans would allow. 

Now Chris had the handsome man exactly where he needed him to be. Jim leaned heavily against the wall, his legs spread wide, his hips pressed forward, his entire body taut and straining. His ripped torso heaved with the effort of breathing. Chris took the head of Jim's cock in his mouth and sucked deeply. With an almost villainous pleasure, he slowly slid the pulsing erection further into his mouth. 

His lips teased the ridge around the head before dragging down the length, all the while his tongue working along the thick vein underneath. With measured strokes he eased slowly down and pulled back, further forward with each thrust, returning every time to suck hard on just the head. 

By the time Chris had most of the steely rod deep in his mouth Jim could no longer keep control of his desire and so he took control of the situation. With strength born of pure necessity he drove his cock forward into Chris's wet heat. Powerful hands gripped Chris's head, holding it still, as Jim's body surged forward from the wall and steadily fucked Chris's mouth. 

Chris half expected this much sooner. Impressed with the tall man's restraint, he relaxed and concentrated on keeping his breath even, as the head of Jim's cock pounded the back of his throat. He used the hand still holding Jim's hard thigh to steady himself and eased the other hand slowly back to slip a finger into the cleft of Jim's tightly clenched ass. 

Jim's need was beyond reason. His tense body strained. His hips bucked forward, hard and steady. Each thrust pounded the willing mouth with bruising force. He was close, so close. His focus narrowed until all he knew was his cock and mouth he was fucking. Then a thick finger shoved hard into his ass, breaching his tight opening and burning straight up inside him. A strangled gasp broke through his clenched teeth just as his orgasm ripped through his body and burst out the head of his cock. 

Wave after wave of pleasure and release shot down the throat that pulsed around him. As Chris swallowed, the motion of his throat forced the last spasms of cum from Jim's cock, leaving it drained and half-hard. Jim stood, leaning heavily against Chris, forcing his legs to hold him up as the tremors of his orgasm shook him. Before he could fully recover, the finger, still deep in his ass, began to move. 

As Jim's body relaxed, the grip on Chris's finger loosened allowing him to push further inside. With steady force he worked his way deeper into the opening, twisting as he went. Jim's breaths were evening out and his muscles gave quarter to allow the invasion. Chris continued stroking the tight passage until Jim began to respond and move against his hand. Then he slowly withdrew and rose to face him. 

Jim's face was calm and serious, but his eyes burned into Chris with a blue fire and his skin flushed and glowed with sweat. He reached down and gripped Chris's cock firmly through his jeans. Chris moaned and pushed into Jim's hand. Jim's other arm snaked out and wrapped around Chris, pulling him close and crushing the dark haired man to his chest. Jim's hand continued to manipulate Chris's trapped erection harshly, feeling it strain for release. He bent to Chris's ear. "You got something?" He rasped. 

"Yeah." Chris replied into Jim's shoulder, "I grabbed a couple of packets off the bar." He reached into his pocket. 

"Good." 

Chris pulled back and opened his jeans, dragging them down his thighs along with his briefs. His cock stood, hard and wet. He stroked the underside slowly with his fingertips. As Jim watched, his own cock began to thicken again. Chris's hand stopped. He ripped open the two silver packets with his teeth and squeezed the clear gel into his palm. His hand returned to his cock. He spread the cool lube over his erection, slicking it down. Then he leveled his gaze at Jim. 

The two men stood facing each other, their skin slick with sweat, their hard cocks slick with spit and lube. Their jeans and briefs, pushed down low around their thighs, left them more exposed than naked. They breathed heavily in unison. 

Jim turned and faced the wall. He planted his hands firmly and spread his legs. His head fell forward and his hips canted back. Chris watched the hard muscles in Jim's back and shoulders jump and roll beneath his tee shirt. His gaze tracked down to Jim's smooth ass, the pale muscles, separated by a dark cleft and the tight, exposed opening within. He moved forward to stand between Jim's legs, pressing one hand between his shoulder blades. 

Two slick fingers pierced Jim's opening, thrusting up hard and deep. He closed his eyes and bit his lower lip as they worked their way inside him, scissoring apart to stretch him open. He pushed back to take them further. His cock throbbed. He wanted more. "Do it." He commanded, his voice a low growl. 

Chris pulled his fingers back and positioned his cock against the hot, wet hole. He rubbed the leaking head around the puckered circle. Jim pressed back to meet the teasing sensation. Then, with one long thrust, Chris drove his cock deep into Jim's body. He pushed forward hard, forcing his way past the slight resistance, stopping only as his balls slapped against Jim's and his hips hit Jim's ass. 

Jim barely had a chance to adjust to the incursion before the thrusts began. Long slow strokes pulled back far enough to leave him almost empty and pushed in again so deeply that he felt them in the quivering muscles of his stomach. Each retreat dragged through him, pulling him back with it. Each advance was a steady drive of strong, contained force. His body shook with the effort of supporting him and he spread his legs further and locked his elbows to bear up under the assault. 

Chris held Jim firmly by the shoulders. Sweat dripped down his face and neck, soaking his tee shirt. The thin, wet cotton clung to his taut body. Jim's ass gripped his cock like a scalding vise. As each thrust dragged along his cock the friction sent shocks and shudders through his groin, making his balls clench. He drove deep in long, slow strokes, savoring the sensation. 

Jim felt pierced, impaled, run through, as if his body would split and then shake apart. His cock hung heavy, throbbing and dripping. He would have reached down and grabbed himself but his hands on the wall and sheer force of will where all that held him up. He pushed back hard on to Chris's cock, driving him in deep and fast. The thrust brushed his prostate and he hissed loudly through gritted teeth. 

Chris picked up the new rhythm and continued, fucking Jim with short, sharp jabs that burned through them both with blade hot intensity. He wrapped an arm around Jim's waist, pulling him back with his forearm and clamping his hand down around Jim's wet cock, each thrust driving him into Chris's fist. 

The two men stood together, fucking against the wall. Chris pounding forward into Jim's body, Jim driving back forcing Chris's cock deeper inside him. Sweat darkened Jim's tee shirt and made Chris's almost transparent. Their balls slapped together and their panting breaths came in loud grunts. The muscles in their thighs and backs stood out in taut lines. 

One more searing stroke into Jim's ass and Chris could feel the hot passage clamp down. He tightened his grip on Jim's cock and Jim was coming, shouting. Fluid splashed over Chris's hand and the wall. Jim's ass spasmed around Chris's cock. Another hard thrust and Chris came, shooting deep inside Jim's body. He collapsed, spent, against Jim's back, his cock still deep in Jim's quivering ass, his hand still holding Jim's sticky cock. 

Their chests rose and fell with shallow breaths and their bodies hummed as the last ripples of orgasm pulsed through them. They shuddered as their muscles relaxed. Chris pulled out and rolled off Jim's back to fall against the wall beside him. 

After awhile Jim stood back from the wall and stretched. Even Chris could hear the loud pop from the small of Jim's back. He looked around. In the corner of the alcove he spotted the roll of toilet paper. He picked it up, ripped off a wad and handled the rest to Chris. 

"Thanks." 

Jim nodded. 

They cleaned themselves off in silence, tucking sticky cocks back into sweaty jeans. Jim left first. He emerged from behind the black curtain to blink in the comparatively bright light of the club. As he made his way across the dance floor towards the exit he heard Chris behind him, bumming a cigarette. Moments later he was back on the street, in front of the door out of Hell, shivering in the damp night air and turning towards the corner where he left the truck. 

* * *

End Hell by Linda: Linda3M@aol.com

Author and story notes above.

  
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